


something wicked

by Cloudnine101



Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 01:51:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6354094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudnine101/pseuds/Cloudnine101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holograms can't touch. It's impossible. And yet, somehow, Jack manages it anyway. </p><p>Rhys can't say that he <em>dislikes it.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	something wicked

**Author's Note:**

> set in a vague au where everybody's together and alive because that's what this fandom deserves and it's not what we're getting

_0_

When he gets outside, Rhys is holding onto the eye. He can't speak - not to anyone. He just sits, quiet, and listens to the sound of his own breathing. The moon's not visible anymore. It had been before. Whatever remains of Jack is glinting up at him. When Rhys curls his fingers around it, it's cold.

 

. 

 

It takes him four and a half days to put the eye back in.

"You said when I forgot about you, you'd get me," Rhys says.

Jack flickers against the wall. He sighs, and his shoulders slump. He falls to the ground. "Ah, Rhys," he says, "you slimy son of a gun."

"I'll never forget," Rhys tells him, quietly. "Never. But I can't get rid of you, either. You won't be able to kill me if I don't let you in."

"So I'm - what? Your tag-along boy?" Jack spits. "Forget that. Send me back. I'm not _yours_."

"You don't have a choice." Rhys shrugs. "Well, you do. You can be alone in the dark forever, or you can be with me, where I can keep an eye on you. I don't trust you, Jack. You'd have found a way out of there. But here? You're all mine."

"I hate you," Jack says, and Rhys smiles.

"We understand each other, then."

 

.

 

_1_

They're on a sand planet. They were picking up essentials, supplies and the like, but then Vaughn said he wanted to check the local population out, and Sasha needed to do something or other - something she wouldn't tell any of them about - and Fiona wanted to go with her - to keep her out of trouble, she'd said - and so Rhys volunteered to stay on board the ship.

He hadn't seen the pirates coming. They'd swept in, taken half the kit from the main console, and backed Rhys up against the wall. All the while, Jack had been watching. Rhys had been looking at him the whole time, even as the pirates had marched him into the airlock and opened it wide.

Now, Rhys is barely clinging on. They'd done something to his metal arm - hit it - and he's holding the side of the ship one-handed, on a lower layer than the one the pirates had chucked him out of. They don't know he's still alive.

"Get help!"

Inexplicably, Jack leans down, going onto his stomach. His hand would brush against Rhys's elbow, if it could. It can't, of course. "Let go," Jack says, "and I'll catch you."

Rhys stares at him. "Are you insane?"

"Grab my hand," Jack's yelling, taunting him. "grab my hand, grab it, come on, Rhys - or are you too scared? Poor, _scared_ little Rhys."

"I'll die," Rhys screams, because he will - he'll grab for Jack's hand, it'll fade away, and he'll be - "Do you want me to die?"

As if in response, the ship rocks from side to side. Rhys cries out. He's being swung from side to side, body limp. His arm's straining, and he can't get a purchase. The metal arm's sparking - he can't lift it, can't pull himself up, but Jack could, if -

"Come on, Rhysie," Jack says, hollering above the wind, "don't you trust me?"

Rhys chokes. The wind's filling his mouth. He can't think. Jack's high above him, framed by the light from the inside of the ship, almost haloed. Jack's face - Rhys has never seen Jack look like this before.

The ship jolts. Rhys is half-thrown backwards. Jack's mouth opens, parting, but Rhys can't hear the words. He lets go, and clutches for Jack. The ground spins below him. Jack's hand is warm, and Rhys is almost crying, now, almost crying as Jack tugs him back up, almost crying as Jack cradles him to his chest and runs a hand through his hair.

"There, there, Rhys. I've got you. I've got you."

"You could've just pulled me up," Rhys babbles, shaking, "you could've just pulled me. Why didn't you?"

Jack's hands tighten on his arms. Despite his best intentions, Rhys leans into the contact. Jack smells sweet and heady. He's strong. If Rhys wanted to, he could bury his face in Jack's neck - if Jack would allow it. In that moment, Rhys _hates_ himself. 

"I had to know," Jack slowly says, "if you trusted me enough. And I didn't know whether I could."

With a sob, Rhys shoves him away. He runs his hand across his eyes, willing himself to calm down, and he tells Jack to stop touching him, now, damn it, but when Jack tries, his hand goes straight through Rhys's chest. Rhys scrambles away to the opposite wall.

They sits like that until Fiona finds them - she crouches down and hugs Rhys, hard. Her gun jostles between their stomachs. Rhys breathes her in, and smiles at Vaughn, who's also wielding a blaster. He tries not to think about Jack, or anything. Behind Fiona, in the doorway, he sees the smoking body of one of the pirate crew.

 

.

 

_2_

"One, two," Jack says, "buckle my shoe, three, four - hey, how does it go again, Rhys?"

"I don't know," Rhys mutters, rubbing his forehead. The light's fading. They're in a dingy backwater place, with little to no heating. Rhys is freezing already. He thinks about jamming his hands underneath his arms. He's got no idea how he's going to get to sleep, but he'll cross that bridge when he comes to it. And then there's the problem of Jack - not the usual problem, either.

Vaughn peers at him. "Is that - Jack talking to you?"

Even now, Rhys can tell Vaughn has his doubts about Jack's existence. He would, too, if their positions were swapped.

"Three, four," Jack starts up again, "knock at the door. Five, six - "

"Pick up sticks." Rhys sighs. "Sorry, Vaughn. That was him again."

Vaughn shrugs. "Hey, it's not as though you can help it."

"Help it - like I'm some kinda affliction. You've gotta stick up for me, Rhys. Tell him I'm special."

Rhys turns his head away.

Jack leans forwards and snaps his fingers. "Rhys. Wake up. Tell him how much I matter to you."

"You don't matter to me," Rhys gets out.

"I'll take it that was to him, too." Vaughn sighs. He polishes his glasses on the hem of his overshirt. "I'll wake you up in the morning."

Jack throws up his hands in disgust. "Imbecile. Can't follow simple instructions." He creaks to his feet - Rhys imagines he can hear the joints popping. Jack's fingers are firm, and they flex now. The door shuts behind Vaughn.

"Alright," Rhys snaps, "you've had your fun. If you're setting out to make life difficult for me, congratulations! You win! I just don't get what reason you could possibly have for being - even more annoying than usual!"

"I don't know," Jack says, "maybe I just fancied a change in the air. We've been on this dump for so long. Get your friends to pack up and leave - or, better yet, leave your pathetic friends and do it yourself!"

"You didn't have any problem with my friends when they were helping you." Rhys turns over onto his side. He starts pulling off his shirt slowly, but when it gets caught around his neck, he hisses and drags it off. "I'm going to sleep, now."

Rhys squeezes his eyes shut. For a while, he waits, expecting Jack to make some kind of barbed comment or pun. Instead, Jack exhales.

"You let her hold you," Jack says. "How is that fair? How come she gets the privileges and I don't?"

Rhys sits up. "Her?"

Jack's face has clouded. He seems - embarrassed. "Nevermind."

"You mean Fiona." Rhys runs a hand down his face. He fights down his laughter as well as he can. "You think that Fiona is -interested in me - romantically. That - is the most stupid thing I've ever heard."

"You don't see the way she looks at you," Jack blurts, and then his mouth shuts. He spins around. "Well, this conversation's been pretty fun, Rhysie, but you'd better hit the sack. Remember your buddy Vaughn's words."

Rhys can't do anything more than say his name before Jack's gone. Rhys lies back on the bed. He's cold - shivering. He wraps his arms around himself. He cranes his head back, and tries to pull up the blanket, only to realise that he's already using it.

"Oh, for the love of Pete," Jack cries, reappearing, "do I have to do everything myself?"

Rhys almost jumps out of his skin. "Jack!" he hisses. "What is your problem?"

"You," Jack says, jabbing a finger at him, "you're the problem. You don't know who's supposed to be - making sure you stay alive. And there is no way I'm letting you freeze to death in the middle of the desert, because even though the irony's beautiful, it'd mean I was out of the picture, too."

Jack nods, once, and then he sits down on the side of the bed. He breathes out, looking hard at his hands - and then he flickers - once, twice - and then he's solid. And then he lunges forwards, and Rhys throws up his hands, gasping, but Jack only embraces him, shoving him down into the mattress, cradling him. Rhys is pliant in his shock. Jack's breath puffs into the side of his neck - Jack's warm, sweet breath.

"Do you know who you belong to?" Jack says.

Rhys shakes his head. Panicking, he tries to thrust Jack away, but Jack's arms are tight. After a while, Rhys stops struggling. He lies still, facing the far wall. He watches a bug crawling across its surface, and tries not to consider the possibilities of Jack lying beside him, gentle and caring, and so different from his usual self. He tries.

"How long can you stay like this?'

Jack clears his throat. "I don't know. I've never tried it like this before."

"How - how are you doing this? You're a hologram."

"Let's call it magic," Jack says, and smooths Rhys's hair back from his forehead. Rhys sighs. "Like that, huh?"

"Yes." Rhys speaks before he can stop himself. Jack will remember this, he knows. "I'm much warmer, Jack. Thanks. Would you let go?"

Jack's silent for a second, before he unpeels himself. His eyes are turned away. "Thought you'd forgotten my name, kid," he's saying.

Rhys blinks. "Jack," he says again, and Jack smiles at him - it's a small, pleasant smile, so utterly different from his usual one. Rhys's heart is beating; he can feel it inside his chest and throat and ears. "My name's not kid."

Jack's smile drops, and is replaced by the usual expression - the smug, suave guy from the posters is sitting in front of him. Rhys feels as though he's hollowed out his own chest. "Well, that's what I'm gonna call you. Don't you worry. Not as though we've gotta be on first name terms, right? We're a team, but not that kind of a team."

"Right," Rhys says, flushing, "sure." His hands are knotted in the covers.

 

.

 

"You look really, really pale," Sasha says, over a light breakfast. They're heading out later in the afternoon. "Are you sure you don't need to see a doctor? Because I, uh, know some people. I could fetch a - "

"Ooh, she could fetch a guy," Jack sing-songs. "You're looking great, Rhysie."

"I'm fine," Rhys says, "I guess I just - haven't been sleeping well."

"Listen," Fiona says, charging in headlong as ever, "if this is about Jack, then there's somebody - I mean, he's an expert. He could get Jack out of your eye in no time, free of charge, because he owes me a favour. Well? Sounds good, right?"

Rhys pushes himself to his feet. "No," he says. "No, it doesn't. I need him there. I'm keeping him there. He'll fall into the wrong hands."

"Can I remind you," Vaughn says, around a slice of bread, "that this is Handsome Jack we're talking about, here? As in, the most hated man in six galaxies? The guy you decided to _let back inside your brain_?"

"Seven," Jack corrects. He smiles. "Possibly eight."

Rhys leaves quickly after that.

 

.

 

_3_

Rhys sits down on the edge of the bunk heavily. He's exhausted - right now, he could just curl up underneath the blankets and die.

"I was thinking about what you did back there," Jack says, long legs stretching into existence in front of him, "and I've gotta tell you, I'm slightly worried for your wellbeing, sweetheart."

"Don't push it," Rhys warns, but Jack ploughs on anyway.

"You had the chance to get me out of your head for good - trapped in the system - and you chose to let me stay. Why is that? 'Cause honestly, I'm at a loss."

Rhys gets up. He puts the gun down on the mattress beside him. He can hear Vaughn moving through the wall. "You figure it out."

Jack's quiet for a while. For a blissful minute or two, Rhys thinks that he might actually be able to get a good night's rest, or at least a couple of hours' worth.

"It's not - I'm not in love with you, kid. You can shake that crazy idea right outta your head." Jack stops pacing, only to whirl around. His right hand's waving. "This thing is a partnership, sure, but it's one where I'm in - you and me, we're a team, but we're not that kind of a team."

Rhys feels himself flush. He starts packing the gun back into the case. The bullets go into the side pouch, one by one. It's difficult work, which is good, because it means he has to concentrate on it instead of looking at Jack. "I never said love. I never said anything about love."

Jack's paused, for a second, spluttering. "Well," he says, "it was heavily implied. Very heavily. In fact, it was about as subtle as a sledgehammer."

"Oh, really?" Rhys shuts the lid. It clicks. His hands are shaking, and he curls them into themselves. "When have I ever suggested anything like that? I've never done it, and even if I had - felt anything, believe me, you'd be the last one I'd tell."

Jack's blinking at him. "Why's that, cupcake?"

"Are you kidding me?" Rhys glances across. "You're not kidding. Fine. I'll spell it out. For one, you're bad-mannered."

"What were you expecting to be? Polite?" Jack laughs. "Picture it - me, sweet! You're being naive. You try running a planet. See what it does to you." Jack turns away, arms folded over his chest, to look out of the window. Rhys has time to focus on the way the light glints off his mask.

"For another, you tried to kill my friends."

Jack tosses a hand. "Pah. Those guys? They'd have been fine, I promise. But we did it. We saved the day. That's what matters. Nobody cares how it gets done, so long as they're safe and snug in their beds." Jack's eyes are fixed on the skyline.

"A third thing - you've never given me any indication that you want me for anything other than getting back on top. If you'd caught a ride in another guy's body, you'd be saying the exact same things to him - telling him that he's good-looking, valued, special." Rhys grits his teeth. "Don't lie. All you're interested in is yourself. All you care about is the world you created."

"And that's not enough for you? Creating a world?" Jack runs a hand through his hair. He makes a movement as though to pat Rhys's shoulder, but aborts it. Rhys gives a little smile of satisfaction. Even if Jack wanted to, he couldn't touch Rhys, nevermind hurt him. Rhys is the man with a plan. He's in control. Jack sighs. "Try and see it my way. Didn't I create you?"

"No," Rhys says instantly, "no, of course you didn't."

"You've been getting stronger since we met, kiddo - faster, harder. And I'm to thank for that." Jack's smiling smugly now. "I made you everything you are."

"That's not true," Rhys insists, but he can sense the waver in his voice. Hadn't Jack had some kind of affect on him? They've been spending so much time together - something must have rubbed off. Vaughn did say he'd been looking more weary recently. How much of that was the late nights, and how much was Jack? Rhys can't say for certain.

"We're a team," Jack says, "you're on my side, I'm on yours. Don't ignore me, Rhys. Don't ignore me."

Rhys's hand stills on the doorknob. Jack could follow him, he knows, and Jack would. He'd go anywhere that Rhys did, do anything that Rhys did. There's no chance of normality. There's only Jack - Jack everywhere, and in everyone, Jack's smile and eyes and soft voice, Jack asking him to roll over at night so they could share the bed, Jack hovering an inch above the covers and laughing.

"You're right," Rhys says, and lets his hand drop. "I can't ignore you. I can't pretend."

"That's the spirit," Jack says. "That's my Rhys."

Rhys shakes his head. "No. I'm not yours. Not yet."

"But you will be." Jack's right in front of him, suddenly. Rhys staggers backwards. He hits the door. Jack shushes him, soothing, but there's the same grin in his stare. "You can't run from this, Rhys. If you could, you'd have let me go out there today, no questions asked. You could be free of me - be your own man. But instead, you're mine."

"No," Rhys says again, "no, I'm not. I won't. You can't make me."

Hand mere centimetres from the side of his face, Jack's lip twitches. It's only for a moment, but Rhys sees it. And then Jack - Jack touches him. Jack cups his cheek with one palm - gently, even tenderly. Rhys is frozen. Jack's smile curves back onto his face, as though it had been there all along. "My Rhys," he says, and then his fingers stroke downwards, the pads pressing into Rhys's skin, and all other thought is forgotten. "It won't be long until you know who you belong to."

Rhys fumbles with the door-lock behind his back, and he runs out into the corridor. He gasps for breath. Jack doesn't try to follow him - he stands still, smiling that same smile.


End file.
